


Tryin to Throw Your Arms Around the World

by Olivier_Mira



Category: Avengers, Captain America, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel MCU, stony - Fandom, superhusbands - Fandom
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivier_Mira/pseuds/Olivier_Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets drunk. Steve gets overprotective. Trouble ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tryin to Throw Your Arms Around the World

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Chats with Super Husbands](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/10838) by textsuperhusbands. 



_“I’m gonna run to you, run to you, run to you… Be still.” ~U2_

Steve slammed his fist into the punching bag, knowing he was probably about to break _yet another one_ , although Tony’s newest design held up a lot longer than the average type.  Working out didn’t make the images flashing though his mind entirely go away, but at least it dulled their intensity a bit.  His therapist from SHIELD – that is, his _reintegration specialist_ , which was clearly a euphemism and he knew it – anyway, she had said this was progress.  So he supposed that was good. 

But it didn’t _feel_ like progress.  It felt like… what was the phrase Tony used?  _Same shit, different day._   Steve knew it was just his anxiety that was tying his stomach in knots because it was 3AM and he hadn’t heard from Tony, and he hadn’t answered any of Steve’s calls.  Unfortunately, _just his anxiety_ had claws like Wolverine and a face like Red Skull, and wasn’t that easy to dismiss.

Just because they were in a relationship did not give Steve the right to track Tony’s every move, as if they were in battle.  Ironically, Steve actually worried less about Tony when they were being attacked then at times like these, when Tony was probably just passed out drunk on Thor’s couch.  At least when they were fighting side by side, he knew where Tony was and he could actively protect him.  Something about the knowledge that if all else failed, he could throw himself bodily in front of Tony in order to save him calmed Steve’s nerves.  The villains capable of fatal attacks on Iron Man _through_ Captain America were few and far between.  As long as Steve could see Tony, and get to him, he was okay. 

Steve tried not to worry, he really did.  He knew Tony needed his space, and that trying to tell Tony Stark what to do was like asking a drill sergeant to please stop yelling – futile and likely to result in explosions.  Steve had enough experience – with Tony and with drill sergeants – to know that it was better to quit while he was ahead.  Tony wasn’t going to change for him – not much.  Little changes, perhaps, but the big things, like Tony’s drinking… it wasn’t like Steve could expect him to become a teetotaler overnight just because _Steve_ didn’t drink.  Even if it were true that Tony’s behavior while drinking had gotten him into trouble in the past, and in fact there was a whole section of his SHIELD file dedicated to this issue, which of course Steve only knew about because he was the team leader and he needed to be aware of such things… still.  What Tony did on Tony’s time was Tony’s business.  Steve wasn’t going to interfere unless the issue became… unmanageable. 

This didn’t change the fact that times like these, when he had no idea if Tony was okay and he couldn’t contact him, were particularly difficult for Steve.  On the one hand, he knew he was being ridiculous and overprotective and… what was the word his therapist had used?  _Codependent._ That was it.  Apparently, he needed to learn to separate himself from other people a bit more.  The fact was, Tony was at the party at Thor and Jane’s with everyone else.  He was among friends.  They would look after him.  He would be fine.  Steve really had no particular reason to be concerned about Tony right now. 

But what other people didn’t seem to understand is that it only took a second, a fraction of a second, a millisecond, to lose someone.  Bucky had been right there, so close, warm and alive and breathing, holding on to that godforsaken rail, looking up at him with fear in his eyes, yet the message behind them was clear: _I trust you absolutely._   They all trusted him, back then.  The Howling Commandos went with him into crazy situation after crazy situation, and they went willingly, because they all trusted Captain America to pull them back out again.  But he had failed. 

_I should have jumped.  I should have fallen with him.  If I survived 70 years in the ice, I bet I could have survived that fall.  I should have grabbed onto him and refused to let go.  At least I could have cushioned his fall.  At least he wouldn’t have died alone. Plummeting into the ice, all alone.  Alone…_

Steve shook his head vigorously, trying to dislodge the memories that haunted him, although he knew it was futile.  He continued decimating the punching bag, figuring breaking it would at least give him a slight cathartic release, even if it only lasted for a moment.  __

Then his phone lit up out of the corner of his eye, and all his fears came clawing back to the surface.  The text was from a number he didn’t recognize, but the message was as clear as a punch to the gut:

_hey steve its ttony_

Putting a hand on the wall to steady himself, Steve tried to remain calm.  He was at once relieved to hear from Tony and yet concerned at the same time.  Why was Tony texting him from a strange number?  _It’s probably nothing.  He’s just been drinking again.  You have no reason to think that he’s in trouble._   Steve took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, then carefully typed out a reply:

**Tony are you ok.**

**Should I come get you.**

It seemed to take forever to type the teeny tiny words into the phone, and he still didn’t know how to make the dang thing use proper punctuation.  He immediately tried calling instead, but Tony didn’t pick up.  Instead, it went to a confusing voicemail message that must have been a reference to some TV show he didn’t recognize.  Steve never hated modern technology more than at times like these. 

The closest thing to a cell phone that Steve had used before he woke up in the 21st century was the old handie-talkie radio during the war.  It had one button on it – the one you pressed to talk into it.  It was so simple even the Marines could use it, or at least that was what Colonel Phillips used to say.  Even the more complicated radios and telegraphs at least followed simple principles, like Morse code.  Steve understood Morse code. 

He did not understand that “c u L8R _”_ meant that Tony would see him later, not that Tony was having a heart attack and therefore hitting the buttons randomly on his phone.  Steve was pretty sure that if someone did a poll of his most frequent texts (and for some reason, modern people were obsessed with this sort of thing), the number one message he sent would be some variation of _Tony, are you okay?_  

Tony’s answer came quickly:

_m fine_

_but yes_

Straightening his shoulders, Steve immediately snapped into combat-mode, already throwing a towel around his neck and discarding his cotton hand wraps, typing as fast as his large hands could manage:

**Where are you.**

Tony seemed to be taking ages to reply.Steve repeated the text, getting more worried by the minute.  It was getting more and more difficult at this point to ignore the swarm of bees that had suddenly taken up residence in his abdomen.  He was halfway into his Captain America uniform when he received the following reply: __

_dunno where i am_

Ice water flooded his system, and he had to physically force himself to breathe.  _Get it together, Rogers. This is just like any other tactical situation.  Convert retreat into advance. **Convert retreat into advance.**   _Repeating the statement calmed him.  It had been echoed by many a commanding officer, but Steve had first heard it when he was thirteen years old, over a crackly old Sears Roebuck wooden box radio, the words of newly elected President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.  “The only thing we have to fear is… fear itself.  Nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror, which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”

 _Nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror.  Convert retreat into advance.  Yes, sir._ Swallowing the fear that was threatening to devour his insides, Steve closed his eyes, inhaled, opened them again, exhaled, and started typing.

**Tony I need more information.**

**Tell me what you can see.**

Immediately, horrible scenarios stared flashing through Steve’s mind, each one more gruesome than the last: Tony was lying somewhere in a back alley in a pool of blood; Dr. Doom had invented some new terrible weapon to attack Tony with; HYRDA had kidnapped Tony and he was currently being tortured at this very minute; and worst of all, Tony freezing to death.  Steve was already intimately familiar with what it was like to freeze to death, and he really, really didn’t need to be thinking about Tony in that situation right now.  He had to physically grip his head to stop the dreadful images from flooding his brain.

 _Convert retreat into advance.  Right. Focus up, Rogers._ Breathing through his nose, he knocked his brain into submission by forcing himself to create a list of the current available information.  __

_Last contact with Iron Man: 1700 hours._

_Location: Avengers Tower._

_Last known destination: Residence of Jane Foster._

_Estimated time of arrival: ca. 1900 hours._

_Current time: 0300 hours._

_Current location of Iron Man: unknown._

_Potential locations: No further than a 20-30 mile radius from point of origin if traveling on foot; No further than 100-150 mile radius from point of origin if traveling by train or motor vehicle._

_Potential allies: Thor, Jane, Hulk, Hawkeye, Widow._

Recommended course of action: Contact potential allies.

_Last resort: Contact SHIELD._

Before he could make a call, his phone lit up again and Tony’s reply appeared on the screen:

_i see… trees._

Trees.  That meant he was likely in one of the parks.  Although Steve was not pleased with the images his mind conjured up at the thought of a drunken Tony wandering alone through Central Park at night, at least that narrowed the search a bit.  He asked Tony what else he could see. 

Meanwhile, he quickly went down the phone list, dialing his potential allies one after another.  Thor didn’t answer, but that wasn’t entirely surprising, considering he was likely as drunk as Tony was at this point.  He didn’t actually have Jane’s number, so he couldn’t call her.  Bruce didn’t answer either, which was somewhat more unusual, but he was also a heavy sleeper, and there were always those unfortunate times when Bruce was… out of commission.  So not that unusual, really.

Steve tried Clint next, figuring he and Natasha were together, and he still felt a little nervous calling Natasha in the middle of the night when they weren’t specifically Assembling; it wasn’t really proper.  He ended up leaving Clint a voicemail and Natasha a text message, asking them to please call him if they had any information as to where Tony was. 

Assembling the team was actually very, very tempting to Steve, but he knew it was a bad idea.  He’d never hear the end of it from Tony ( _Really, Steve?  Next time, why don’t you just call in the entire US Army?)_ and he’d definitely never hear the end of it from Nick Fury ( _Really, Rogers?  You assembled_ my team _in order to find your drunk-ass boyfriend?  REALLY??)._  Unfortunately, unless Dr. Doom really did show up, Assembling was definitely out. 

Meanwhile, Tony’s replies were not terribly helpful.  He could apparently see trees, bushes, and buildings, which could put him… anywhere in the five burroughs.  Steve sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.  __

**Can you see the entrance to the park.**

**What does it look like.**

If he were in Central Park, he might be able to see the big iron gates, or something that would tip him off to where he was.  Tony’s next answer was not what he was expecting:

_dunno… cant rly move_

Steve swore his heart stopped beating.  _This is not happening._ He grasped the back of his neck with his hand, hard, out of nervous habit.  It took all of his considerable control to simply reply:

**Tony are you hurt.**

His eyes closed.  He didn’t want to hear the answer.  The phone’s vibration nearly made him jump out of his skin when the message appeared.

_im fine_

Sometimes Steve couldn’t tell if certain things people did that struck him as odd were just modern conventions, or whether people had similar behavior during his time, but he just hadn’t noticed it back then.  The fact that modern people – certainly everyone on his team, anyway – were constantly saying they were _fine_ when they _weren’t_ … he really just didn’t understand this.  It wasn’t that he didn’t get that men wanted to be seen as tough and macho – he had been in the army, after all – but it was just… what was the point of saying you were _fine_ all the time, when it clearly meant nothing?

Tony was _always_ fine.  He was fine after they had an argument that had nearly come to blows; he was fine even though he hadn’t slept or eaten for three days; he was fine after he broke up with Pepper even though he spoke to no one but his robots for nearly two weeks; he was fine after nearly being crushed to death by doombots; he was fine after nearly plummeting to his death after delivering a nuclear missile through a portal into outer space.  And now, unsurprisingly, Tony was fine, even though he was out in the cold, alone, intoxicated and possibly wounded.  Steve shook his head as he replied:

**Tony please don’t lie to me.**

It was a stupid thing to text, but Steve didn’t care.  He was tired of Tony being _fine._

_its just my ankle i thinkk its twwissss twissssttt_

_it hurts_

Okay, okay a twisted ankle wasn’t good, but it was something he could deal with.  Still.  That meant Tony couldn’t run for his life if he had to.  Steve took a deep breath and let it out.  He was rapidly losing patience.  Even if it was just a minor injury, he still didn’t like it.  He told Tony he was going to be okay, and asked him if he could hear anything.

Steve realized that he was dialing Coulson’s number before he even made the conscious decision to do so.  He didn’t care if Tony was going to be embarrassed about being picked up by SHIELD – enough was enough.  He was _not_ leaving Tony freezing and wounded in the middle of the night in a city park.  Not happening.

“Coulson.”

“Hello Agent Coulson, it’s Captain Steve Rogers calling.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.  What can I do for you, Cap?”

“Listen, I’m very sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night…”

“No, it’s not a problem at all.”  Coulson sounded like Christmas had come early.  Steve felt guilty pressing his advantage like this, but truth be told, he was desperate.

“It’s just that I… I can’t find Tony.”

“Hmmm.  Out drinking again, is he?”

Steve sighed.  Well, Coulson did know everybody’s file, so it wasn’t like it was a surprise.  “I’m afraid so, sir.  He… he’s been texting me from an unknown number, and he says he doesn’t know where he is, just that he’s in a park.  I’m concerned because he also says he’s wounded, and it’s cold.  Do you think you could…”

“Not a problem, Captain Rogers.  We’ll have him returned to you in a jiffy.”

“Thank you very much, sir.  I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.  Really, nothing at all.”

He gave Coulson the number and the rest of the relevant information.  When he got off the phone, he felt a momentary surge of relief.  If anyone could find Tony, it was SHIELD.  He just hoped they would find him before anything happened.  He was about to send a message to let him know that they were coming, when Tony texted him back:

_i hear water i think_

Water?  Water.  Where could he be if he could hear the water…  The possibilities swirled through Steve’s tired brain.

_wait… i see u_

Steve was brought up short.  What the heck was Tony talking about?

**You see me.**

**How can you possibly see me.**

Steve really, really hoped that Tony wasn’t lying about his injuries to the extent that he was losing blood rapidly and starting to make no sense.  Tony’s reply did not fill him with confidence:

          i see ur sister :)

**Tony what are you talking about.**

**I don’t have a sister.**

_i see freeeeeedom!_

This was getting out of hand, and quickly.  Steve prayed that Coulson would live up to his reputation in this instance and get to Tony immediately before it was too late. 

**Tony.**

**Just stay calm and stay where you are.**

**SHIELD is on their way.**

As he typed it out, he realized that the message was really more to himself than to Tony.  _Stay calm. SHIELD is on their way._ He tried to tell himself that, but it really wasn’t working.  His fists were opening and closing at his sides the way they did when he was restless.  There was something about what Tony had said that was clicking in his mind, and he couldn’t quite grasp it… _Trees, water, sister, freedom…_ Wait!

_lady liberteeee!_

**Battery park.**

**You’re in battery park.**

_steeeeeve ur so smaaaaaart_

Right, Battery Park!  Where you can see the Statue of Liberty across the water.  Less than five miles from the Avengers Tower.  Fifteen minutes by train.  Steve could run it in ten.

**Tony I’m coming.**

**I’m coming right now.**

**Stay where you are.**

**Don’t move.**

Steve flew down the stairs of the Avengers Tower and then took off down Park Avenue like a shot from a rifle.  _Eight minutes and counting._   Any late night partiers out at the time would only have noticed a red, white and blue blur as he zipped past.  Fortunately, it was mostly a straight shot and not a lot of turns, so he could accelerate as he went without having to watch his angles, which had screwed him up when he had first received the serum.  Crashing through windows was something he didn’t need right now.  _Slight left on Broadway; six minutes and counting._

He only had one thought on his mind: _Get. To. Tony._   Everything else was inconsequential.  His phone was buzzing in his pocket, but it wasn’t worth stopping to check it.  He’d be there next to him soon enough.  _Little Italy. Five minutes and counting._

A strange thought occurred to him as he ran: at this time of night, running at this speed, New York was not that much different from how it had been seventy years ago.  Other than the obvious glaring lights that streaked past his vision, it could have been 1940 for all he could tell at the moment.  He found the thought oddly comforting as he passed the turn off for the Brooklyn Bridge, which had been built long before his time.  _Three minutes and counting._

He made it to Battery Park with time to spare, managed to stop himself before launching straight into the Hudson, and he stood with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.  Calling out Tony’s name into the darkness, he began a full scan of the area, frantically searching for anything out of the ordinary.

“Tony!  Iron Man, do you read me?”

Where on earth was he?

*** 

Earlier…

The party at Thor and Jane’s had just gotten to that awesome stage where everybody’s giddy and the music is loud and life feels kind of like a movie.  Well, if you’re Tony Stark, your life is like a movie all the time, and a pretty awesome movie at that.  But still.  Tony was drunk enough to forget almost all of his bullshit, but not quite to the point where the nausea kicked in and the aforementioned bullshit came back in living color.  For the moment, Tony was just happy to be enjoying himself. 

Everyone was there - with one glaring, red, white and blue exception, whom Tony was trying not to think about - and nearly everyone was plastered.  Bruce was passed out half asleep on the couch.  Natasha, who could drink vodka like water, which made absolutely no sense given her relative body weight, but whatever, was attempting what looked like a tabletop pirouette in order to reach Clint, who was hanging from the ceiling fan.  A thought drifted through Tony’s mind that he should be concerned about said ceiling fan, when he promptly remembered that 1) this wasn’t his house and 2) he wasn’t sober enough to give a shit. 

Thor, Jane and Darcy had a pretty raucous dance party going on in the next room.  Somehow Thor had rigged Mjolnir to float above their heads, spinning and flashing lights like an absurd Asgardian disco ball, and they were all jumping up and down, waving their hands.  Tony was pretty sure Thor’s dad would not approve of said use of Mjolnir, but even when Tony wasn’t not-give-a-shit-drunk, he didn’t exactly care what people’s dads thought. 

All in all, it was a great party, almost a perfect one, really, except for the fact that Steve was missing, and try as he might, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about him.  He knew that Steve didn’t like their parties, and that he didn’t like Tony’s drinking.  The few times that Tony had persuaded Steve to join them, he sat on the far end of the couch drinking apple juice, trying not to look at everyone disapprovingly and clearly failing, thereby redefining _hella awkward_ for the 21 st century.  After that, Tony gave up and let Steve sulk at home instead.  It wasn’t a terrific solution, but Tony didn’t really know what else to do.

Normally he just let Steve alone and concentrated on more important things, like getting shitfaced.  But right now, this minute, Tony _missed_ him.  It was kind of a bummer getting buzzed when the person you really wanted to get buzzed with wasn’t there.  Tony tried to remember what he had done in the past when he was dating someone who didn’t drink… Then he abruptly realized that he had never dated a completely sober person.  Like, ever.  That was a depressing thought.  Which was immediately followed by a succession of equally depressing thoughts, about how mismatched he and Steve were, how he was probably going to screw up this relationship like all the rest of them, and, the worst and most damning thought of all… _that he was just like his father._

 _Fuck._   Cue nausea kicking in.  Suddenly Tony couldn’t stand to be at the party anymore.  He really, really just wanted to be where Steve was.  But Steve didn’t want to see him - not like this, and Tony knew it.  _Damn it, why did relationships have to be so fucking complicated?_   This was why Tony had preferred sticking to one night stands or casual fuck buddies.  It was just a hell of a lot easier.  None of this attachment and compromises and Tony-we-need-to-talk-about-this and all the other stupid crap that came with relationships. 

Yet as much as he tried to convince himself that that was true, even while drunk off his ass he knew it was a lie.  Casual sex was fun, but what he had with Steve was _more._   Being with Steve made him feel like he was somebody, like he counted, like what he did mattered.  Which was ridiculous, because he was Tony Stark, damn it, of course what he did mattered.  But somehow, all of the things he did as Tony Stark the genius or Iron Man the superhero, all those inventions and awards, even saving the world a time or two seemed like nothing when compared to the fact that _he mattered to Steve._   He, Tony, as a _person_ , not a machine he had created, but _Tony himself_ , mattered to someone. 

Tony could count on one hand the number of times that had happened in his life.  He certainly hadn’t mattered to his father.  In fact he had been pretty used to not mattering to anyone, really, until Steve came along and then… everything changed.  Suddenly, Tony was important, and not because he had money or he could build things, but because of who he was.  Steve said he _needed_ him.  Tony didn’t want to admit how much that had affected him.  Steve had a way of saying things, full of honesty, sincerity, and earnestness, like those words had never before been spoken in the history of the world.  _I need you._   That was all Tony needed to hear.  For that, he was willing to put up with everything else.

That didn’t mean he was much good at it, however.  Really, he knew he should just stop being so selfish and mopey and just put himself to bed.  It was after 2AM.  Steve was probably asleep, although you never could tell, as his sleeping habits were somewhat erratic.  They shared the same bed often, but not always.  Tony had figured out early on that Steve was obviously uncomfortable making out with him after Tony had had a few drinks, so he tended to avoid migrating towards Steve’s room on those occasions.  __

This was definitely one of those occasions.  Yet the idea of falling asleep beside Steve was calling to Tony, like a siren’s song. _Maybe it will be okay.  Maybe he won’t even wake up. I could just sneak into bed next to him._ That was a ridiculous thought, and Tony knew it.  Steve woke up on red alert when the air conditioning kicked in, never mind someone else getting into bed with him.  How the hell he had slept for 70 years in the ice was a mystery to Tony, but he didn’t like to think about that too much.  Tony knew he should really just let Steve sleep.  But the thought of how nice it would be to snuggle under six feet of super soldier right now pushed everything else out of Tony’s brain.  He headed outside, figuring he could use some air, and that he might as well walk home, even though it was a bit chilly out.

This turned out to be a colossally bad idea.  The streets of Manhattan all start to look similar when you are seriously hammered.  Not for the first time in his life, Tony Stark found himself wandering the city aimlessly drunk in the middle of the night.  He had no idea how long he’d been wandering , and no idea where he was. 

It didn’t help that he was somehow inexplicably wearing ill-fitting sandals, which he was pretty sure were not his own.  His taste in expensive shoes didn’t quite rival Pepper’s, but he knew his personal cobbler would be aghast at the Birkenstock-like footwear he had apparently picked up from one of the other Avengers.  Bruce, probably.  He was the only one who would wear Birkenstocks in the winter. With socks.  Green socks.  Which thankfully Tony hadn’t somehow also acquired.

The fact that he was going to have to buy Bruce a new pair of sandals occurred to him when he tripped over a stick (Why were there suddenly sticks? What the hell?) and ended up face down in a bush, snapping the buckle on his left sandal in the process.  He somehow managed to get one foot wedged painfully underneath him, and had either twisted or broken his ankle.  _Ouch! Son of a bitch._   

As he was trying to dislodge his foot, thinking if it hurt this much now, while he was still drunk, it was gonna seriously hurt tomorrow, his first thought was that he was glad he lived in New York.  Here, people lying drunk in the middle of a park (which he supposed was where he was) was so commonplace that it was unlikely that anyone was going to embarrassingly ask him if he was okay, especially at 2AM.  Still, he figured he’d better at least get himself somewhere less conspicuous, so that the police didn’t pick him up, which would be even more embarrassing.  And had happened before.  And had been plastered all over the tabloids.

But at that time, Tony had been dating Pepper, not Steve.  While Pepper had been seriously unhappy with him, dealing with her upset was one thing.  Dealing with two hundred and twenty pounds of irritated super soldier was something else entirely.  Worse, it wasn’t even Steve being mad at him that he was worried about, so much as Steve giving him _that look_.  The one that somehow managed to convey everything Tony dreaded at once: disappointment, frustration, and most of all, _hurt._   It was as if Tony fucking his life up wounded Steve personally, worse than if he had actually struck him, and Tony hated that fact.  He hated that he hurt Steve, he hated that he couldn’t stop doing it, and he hated himself most of all, for being such a giant fuck-up.

Heaving a sigh, he managed to somehow drag himself over to a large tree so that he had something to lean against.  Now was probably a good time to find his cell phone and get someone to pick him up before he got stabbed or something and then he’d _really_ have to hear it from Steve.  He reached into his back pocket, pulled the phone out, and immediately realized he had a problem. 

This was not his phone.  His phone was a Starkphone.  This was clearly not a Starkphone.  And it was displaying a rather confusing picture of what looked like Darcy riding Clint, who was on all fours, like a bucking bronco.  With a cowgirl hat on.  Grinning like a loon.  Either this represented some new romantic development that Tony was unaware of, or they had both been nearly as drunk as he was currently, which was more likely. 

This realization was in no way helpful to Tony’s current predicament.  Clint, who was irritatingly fond of stupid practical jokes, had likely switched he and Darcy’s phones without either of them realizing it.  _Damn it, Barton…!_   Even worse, Darcy’s not-Starkphone was nearly out of juice, and just barely getting a signal.  In New York City for Christ’s sake. Tony put his head in his hands.  _Seriously? Just… fuck me._

He tried to think.  He needed to contact JARVIS, but there was no way Darcy’s piece of shit phone was going to have the capacity to do that, not without some serious hacking, and Tony had neither the presence of mind nor the tools to accomplish that task at the moment.  After what seemed like a thousand drunken years – the screen was awfully blurry, either because the phone sucked or because he was smashed or both - he managed to locate Darcy’s phone contacts.  He tried texting both Jane and Thor, but seeing as when he left them at the Asgardian Disco, they were not exactly paying close attention to their phones, it was not surprising when neither of them responded. 

Pepper would come get him, or at least send Happy after him, but embarrassingly enough, Tony didn’t actually know Pepper’s phone number.  Or Happy’s.  He had never needed to know them; they were programmed into his phone, or he would just ask JARVIS to call them.  In fact, Tony didn’t know anybody’s phone number, except, well… Steve’s. 

He knew Steve’s number because he’d had to teach him how to use his phone step by step, explaining to him how area codes and modern phone numbers worked.  This was after Tony had nearly asphyxiated himself trying not to laugh when he overheard Steve calling the operator and asking to make a long distance call via the old Pennsylvania 6-5000 method.  To make up for it, Tony had patiently explained the last 70 years in telephone technology, and then had JARVIS show him the old Bugs Bunny cartoon with the Glenn Miller parody, _Transylvania 6-5000._ Steve had laughed until there were tears in his eyes, Tony remembered fondly.  

Meanwhile, Tony was trying to get his inebriated brain to calculate his chances of escaping this incident relatively unscathed.  He really, really didn’t want to contact Steve, not really, nope, not at all.  Yet not contacting Steve meant not contacting anyone, either that or calling 911, which was _not_ happening.  If he just lay here, chances were he would get himself into worse trouble before the night was over.  He had to admit it: texting Steve now was actually a better plan than having the police call Steve later. 

Sighing again, he rubbed his hand over his face.  Well, he’d certainly been in worse predicaments.  Might as well just get it over with, before he completely lost coherency.  Walking around had apparently made him even drunker than he had been before, which was not helpful right now.

_hey steve its ttony_

Where the hell was the send button?  The damned phone didn’t even have autocorrect, what the hell?  And the buttons were so tiny, and you had to press them so hard, and where was the shift key?  Tony made up his mind that as soon as he got back home he was telling JARVIS to send Darcy a Starkphone _immediately._   And Jane.  And anyone else whose phone he might accidentally end up in possession of.  Damn it. 

He was in the process of trying to type _Are you awake?_ when the phone buzzed and Steve’s reply came through:

**Tony are you ok.**

**Should I come get you.**

Worried already, no doubt.  Tony hated that he made Steve worry.  He knew it wasn’t right.  Steve had had so many people die on him; he was literally the last man standing for his entire generation.  The last thing he needed was an idiot drunk boyfriend who made him worry all the time.  And yet, here Tony was, fucking with his head again.  Sometimes Tony was convinced that the only thing he really knew how to do well was to be an asshole.  He was really, really good at that. 

He told Steve he was fine, but yes, picking him up would be nice, thanks.  It didn’t occur to him until he received Steve’s immediate reply of **Where are you** that actually, he had absolutely no fucking idea where the hell he was.  _Son of a bitch._ This night was just _not_ working out the way Tony had planned.  Now Steve was gonna be like, double worried.  He put his head in his hands.

_Come on, Stark, you’re a goddamned genius.  Pull your head out of your ass and figure out what to do._

Problem was, his vision was more than a little blurry.  He could just make out some trees, a fence, some homeless guys in the distance gathered around a trash bin fire, and not much else.  Seeing the fire made him suddenly realize he was cold, and also shivering, which was making it even more difficult to text.  He had thought he was too drunk to be cold, but apparently there was a statute of limitations on that sort of thing, and Tony had reached it.  Lovely. 

The phone beeped again, and Tony saw that his lack of reply had cranked Steve’s anxiety up a notch:

**TONY WHERE ARE YOU**

_Crap._   He didn’t want to tell Steve that he didn’t know, but he didn’t see that he had much of a choice.  He managed to type _I dunno_ and tried to think.  Which direction had he come from?  Even just thinking about that for some reason made him start laughing.  Truth was, he had fuck-all no idea whatsoever which way he had come.  Could have been from Mars for all he knew.  He bet it was this fucking cold there, too.

While his brain meandered off into calculating equations as to just how cold it was on the surface of Mars and whether he could build a suit that would allow him to hang out there, Steve texted him again:

**Tony I need more information.**

**Tell me what you can see.**

Tony looked.  The most obvious thing he could see was trees, so he started with that.  Steve was probably going nuts on the other end, thinking Tony was being spectacularly unhelpful, but Tony really didn’t know what else to tell him. 

**Thank you Tony that is very good.**

**What else do you see.**

Um… bushes?  Some buildings?  He typed everything he could see in his immediate vicinity, leaving out the homeless guys because that’d probably freak Steve out, although they were really just minding their own business. 

Tony probably should have thought a little harder about what kinds of things might freak Steve out before telling him that he couldn’t move, because Steve immediately texted back **Tony are you hurt** , which meant he had just progressed from Cap Red Alert Level 3 to Cap Red Alert Level 1, which was not good _at all._

Cap Red Alert Level 1 tended to result in Steve showing up on a pegasus with _Ride of the Valkyries_ playing in the background.  Which actually wouldn’t be such a bad thing right now, except that the aftermath of said Wagnerian rescue scene involved a lot fewer winged horses and a lot more lecturing of Tony and his bad behavior.  It also meant that Tony was going to end up in the doghouse, which in turn meant that this crappy, freezing cold night from hell was in fact _not_ going to end in amazing, post-rescue sex with his very warm, very attractive super soldier, and that was just really unacceptable. 

He quickly told Steve he was fine, even though he knew Steve wouldn’t believe it, just to try to maybe bring the alert level down to Level 2, which at least had a slightly better chance of Tony actually getting laid at the end of the night.  Steve clearly wasn’t buying it, though, so he tried to tell him that it was just a twisted ankle, though his texting ability at this point was getting really out of hand. 

Then Tony had a brilliant idea, which should have stopped him right there, since his brilliant ideas while drunk generally ended up with him getting blown up or arrested or both.  Steve had asked him if he could see the entrance of the park, which he couldn’t.  But if he climbed the tree he was currently leaning against, he could see lots of things, right? 

He was already grabbing onto the tree and trying to scramble up when another text arrived.

**Tony you’re going to be ok.**

**I’m coming.**

**I just need a little more information.**

**Can you hear anything.**

Tony tried to listen, but he was really thinking more about his new idea, so he didn’t listen for very long.  He found that he could stand on one leg at least, even if he was a bit wobbly.  There was a sort of lower branch that he could just barely grab onto, and he sort of swung himself onto it.  This was probably a really bad idea, since he was suddenly dizzy like woah, but he managed to hang onto the branch somehow. 

Suddenly, he realized that he could hear something.  That something sounded like water.  He scrambled for the phone and texted Steve with this news.  Then he saw something out to his right.  Something was glowing in the night, but it wasn’t his arc reactor.  He knew what that something was, too, although his brain wasn’t really working properly.  Whacking himself in the head, he said, “Come on, genius, think!”

And it must have worked, because suddenly, he figured it out, and he started laughing and laughing and he couldn’t stop.  Woooo, really seriously drunk now!  He had to admit, this was kind of fun!  Ha, ha, ha, he was gonna text Steve: _I see your sister!  Your sister in freedom!  The Lady Liberty!_

For some reason, the idea of the Statue of Liberty as Steve’s sister was so riotously funny, that Tony just could _not_ stop laughing!  He was _soooooo_ gonna go home and photoshop Steve’s shield onto the Statue of Liberty and show it to everyone and they were gonna _soooooo_ laugh, and _woah, damn, this tree is kinda slippery, yikes…!_

At that moment, he dropped the phone and nearly fell off the tree and died, which would have been very bad, but somehow, instead, he found himself being miraculously lifted into the air.

***

 “Hey, Cap.” 

It registered that someone was trying to get his attention, but Steve couldn’t see anyone.  “Who’s there?  Tony?”  He dropped into a crouch, shield up and ready to fight for Tony, wherever he was. 

 _“Cap. Yo._ ”  The voice got louder, and it was coming from above.

“Whozzzat, is it Steve?  Steeeeeeeeve!”

Steve whipped around, and finally looked up, stunned.  There was Tony, very much alive and very much still drunk, hanging from a tree.  Or rather, hanging from Hawkeye, who was holding him firmly by the collar.

Clint leaped lightly to the ground, with Tony in tow, then unceremoniously deposited him at Steve's feet, making Steve wince.  Tony crawled his way over to Steve and absurdly latched onto his left leg, laughing hysterically.  "Hi Steeeeeeve!  H-have I told you lately that I love... your boots?  I really, really do!  I mean, they almost match my suit... didya ever think of that?  Huh?  It's truuuuuuuuuuue!"

“Tony, _Jesus…!_ ”  Steve completely embarrassingly collapsed to his knees, and pulled Tony into a fierce embrace, stopping himself from crushing him only by sheer willpower and the knowledge that he was hurt.  “Clint, how did you find him?”  _He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay…!_

“Coulson.  Phones can be traced, Cap.  Standard SHIELD protocol, although Stark is in the habit of making his more difficult to find.  Luckily, he happened to be carrying Darcy’s phone.  That was my fault, sorry.  Also, for future reference, you can just ask JARVIS to locate his drunken master when he pulls a stunt like this.  Really don’t have to call in the big guns for this kinda thing.  Just FYI.” 

Steve felt himself blushing all the way down to his toes.  Never mind embarrassed: he was pretty dang _mortified!_ Of course he could have asked JARVIS: how stupid of him!  The thing was, Steve still had trouble figuring out how exactly to categorize JARVIS, as he wasn’t a human being, but he wasn’t just a machine, either.  He made a mental note to add JARVIS to his list of potential allies. __

“I’m… I’m really sorry.  I didn’t know – ”

Clint shrugged.  “No biggie.”

Steve was glad he could hide his embarrassment by concentrating on Tony, asking him if he was okay, checking for broken bones.  His ankle did seem to be sprained, and he was a little scraped up, but thank God, that was it.  Realizing that Tony was barefoot, Steve immediately pulled off his boots and socks and was trying to give the socks to Tony, who was still laughing and giving Steve a hard time.  Steve looked back up at Clint, who was trying to hide the fact that he was grinning from ear to ear.

“I… I tried to call you?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.  I have a habit of ignoring phone calls when I’m drunk.  But Coulson has a habit of not taking that as an excuse.  He also doesn’t accept hospitalization, being in the middle of a gun fight, or being kidnapped by terrorists as excuses.  Especially not when he’s trying to impress Captain America.” 

Steve blushed as red as his boots once again.  He was really trying not to embarrass himself further, but he couldn’t stop touching Tony all over, trying to convince himself that he was safe.  Tony’s incessant giggling was _not_ helping.  “I’m… I’m really sorry about all this.” 

“Don’t be.  Made Phil’s night.  Also, safe to say this is not likely to end up on Fury’s desk in the morning.  Just a little business between friends.”  Clint winked at him, and Steve couldn’t help but feel absurdly grateful.

“Clint, I… Thank you.  I really appreciate this very much.  I’m sure you would have preferred to stay at the party…”

“What, and miss such a fantastic opportunity to gather more ammunition against Stark?  Not a chance!”  He was practically bouncing on his heels with mirth.

“ _Ouch!_   Quit it, will you!  Sheeeeeesh!  Why are you so meeeeeean?” Tony was protesting Steve’s attempts to gingerly put a sock on his injured foot.   

“D’you want me to take him back?  I uh, borrowed Thor’s motorcycle.” 

“It’s all right… I’ll carry him.”  Steve frowned, not wanting to lecture Clint at the moment, seeing as he had just gotten them out of a heap of trouble, and yet still concerned about Clint driving under the influence of alcohol.

Clint must have noticed Steve’s look, because he backpedaled.  “Right, forgot who I was talking to for a second there.  You know what?  You take care of Stark, and I’ll just call Phil right now and have him come pick up me and the bike.  We could use a late night cheeseburger anyhow.” 

“That sounds like a better plan, thank you-”

“Who said cheeseburger?  I want a cheeseburger!  Steeeeeeve!  Let’s get cheeseburgers! Pleeeeeeeeease??”

Gathering Tony up in his arms, Steve stood up.  “Tony. We are not getting cheeseburgers.  We are going _home._ ”

“Awwwww, whyyyyyyy?” Tony was pawing at the star on Captain America’s chest, like a petulant kitten.

“Clint, please do convey my thanks to Agent Coulson.”

“Will do.  Good luck, Stark!  Hope you enjoy your nice four star doghouse!” 

Clint disappeared, phone in hand, and Steve hoped he wasn’t lying about calling Coulson to pick him up, but he didn’t think so.  Phil and Clint had been getting rather close lately, and if Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say they might be secretly dating, but of course he wasn’t going to start rumors. 

“You’re waaaaaaaarm.”  Tony was purring into Steve’s neck as they were walking, having taken the cowl down. 

“Mmmm.”  Steve pulled Tony’s still-shivering form closer.  The arc reactor was glowing softly in the darkness.  He buried his head for a moment in Tony’s hair, inhaling his scent, waves of relief still washing over him.   _Safe._

“Steeeeeeve, where’s your shield?”  

“On my back, Tony.”

“Can I see it?”

“No, Tony.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“No.”

“How come I never get to see it?”

“You do get to see it.  You see it all the time.”

“Nuh- _uh_.  No fair.  Imma get it!”

Steve sighed, as Tony fruitlessly flailed his arms around, trying unsuccessfully to reach Steve’s back.  _It doesn’t matter. He’s safe.  That’s all that counts._

Tony was asleep in his arms by the time Steve got home.  He lay him down in bed, covered him with blankets and went to get some ice to put on his wounded ankle.  Then after changing into sweats and a t-shirt, he came back and climbed into bed with him. 

Wrapping his arms around him, he gently pulled Tony close.  It was embarrassing to admit this, even to himself, but this was the only time he ever felt totally safe, with Tony completely ensconced in his arms, where no one could get to him, no one could try to take him away.  Just thinking about it made him reflexively pull Tony even closer, curling his body up around Tony’s, their legs entwined.

_What am I going to do with you, Tony Stark?  What am I going to do with you…?_

***

Tony must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, he was warm and safe in bed with Steve and everything was okay.  Which would have been great, except then he remembered Steve’s worried face appearing in his vision, asking him over and over again if he was okay.  _Shit.  He looked frightened to death.  I’m an asshole._

He sighed, shifting positions slightly, trying not to disturb Steve, but knowing that was probably impossible.  Sure enough, Steve’s eyes fluttered open, and he reached out to touch Tony’s face. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony sniffed.  “I’m… sorry.”

“Shhhh.  It’s okay.  Just sleep.”

Steve kissed him, just above his left eyebrow, a gentle brush of the lips, barely there, as if Tony were something precious and fragile and not just a pathetic, drunken idiot. 

“Steve…”

“Shhhh.”

Steve’s strong arms enfolded him once more, and Tony could feel something in his heart give way in that moment.  A place deep within him, a place that was always roiling with anxiety and fear and terror, momentarily relaxed, retracting its claws.  

 _I don’t deserve you,_ he thought.  _I really don’t._ And yet, here he was. 

Because somehow, despite everything, he still mattered to Steve.  And that was what counted.  


End file.
